


All Over Again

by GayApril16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bees, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Curses, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Feel-good, Happy Ending, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mechanic Dean Winchester, One Shot, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Short & Sweet, Temporarily Female Castiel (Supernatural), Their sexualities aren't really addressed face on though, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayApril16/pseuds/GayApril16
Summary: After five happy years of marriage to his wife Cas, Dean wakes one morning to find her gone. When he finds her again, she's not a her anymore.Short and sweet and nothing hurts ❤️
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I started writing this a while (months) back but got distracted and didn't finish it until now. This work was inspired by another work of fanfic on this site, with the same premise and idea but a different story. I wish I could find the fic to give that author credit for the idea, but I haven't been able to. So: The idea is *not* mine but the writing is my own. If anyone knows the fic and wants to point me to it in the comments so I can give it credit that would much appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean had been married for five long, happy years. His wife was everything he could have wished for and more—kind, intelligent, dorky. She always knew how to get Dean to smile, even on his worst days, and she had a way of thinking that fascinated Dean without end. It was always a toss-up to guess what type of comment would come out of her mouth after she sat for a while, her brow furrowed as she thought—it could be anything from a deeply profound observation about the universe to asking Dean how much cereal they had left. She was beautiful, too—long, dark hair that she never seemed to know what to do with, piercingly blue eyes that Dean could drown in. Almost once a week Dean would wake up to find her watching him as she sat crossed-legged in bed, her head tilted in the way that made Dean fall in love with her all over again.

Dean hadn’t cared that she was more of a tomboy than the traditional woman when they’d started dating—in both personality and looks. She was only an inch shorter than Dean, who himself was over six feet tall, and she never wore makeup or did anything fancier than tie her hair back to get it out of the way. She didn’t really like dresses, preferring suits for when she had to go formal—and, of course, grumbling about the lack of functional pockets whenever she did. She liked reading big novels and watching nature documentaries and was hopeless at managing a kitchen, not to mention even more hopeless when it came to anything movie or tv-show related. Or anything modern, really. She also had an obsession with bees that Dean found absolutely adorable. 

Her full first name was Castiel, but Dean had called her Cas practically since they’d met, quite literally running into each other on the sidewalk one day. Cas’ college notes had gone flying, and Dean had scrambled to help her pick them up, apologizing profusely the entire time. Cas had turned red, avoiding Dean’s gaze when he handed the papers back to her—at least until Dean asked if he could buy her coffee as an apology. She had agreed, and things had just gotten better from there.

After they’d gotten married, they’d talked about adopting kids, as Cas wasn’t able to have her own, but had settled for just having each other. They went for walks in the forest that bordered their property line and had movie nights every Thursday and left little riddles for each other—the answers of which were usually terrible puns—on sticky notes all over the house. Even though Dean was a mechanic and Cas had an English degree and wrote short stories, and even though that they could both be as stubborn as mules, they had never actually argued. Disagreed on things, sure, but they could talk it out and finish with a smile and a kiss and move on with their life. Sure, they had struggles—at one point Dean had been unemployed, and at another Cas had gotten into a car accident and broken some bones—but they had just brought them closer together, not farther apart. They were both willing to put in whatever work was needed to make sure their marriage was successful, whether that be shouldering the majority of the load while the other got back on their feet or simply admitting when they were wrong. Dean had never been happier, and he had been able to tell that Cas felt the same way.

Which is why he was startled to wake up one morning, two months after their fifth wedding anniversary, to find that Cas’ side of the bed was empty. Not only empty, but _cold_ —Cas had been gone for a long time. Dean had searched the house, but Cas was nowhere to be found. What was even more worrying was that there was no note, that Cas’ cellphone was still on the counter, and that both cars were still in the garage. Cas was just _gone_.

The only thing Dean did find was that half of their emergency cash was gone.

Dean looked. All day, he looked, but he couldn’t find Cas anywhere. At the end of the day he came back to a house that was too empty, to a bed that was too cold. Dean ended up moving downstairs to sleep on the sofa.

Dean couldn’t imagine that Cas would ever willingly leave their life. He _knew_ she’d been happy—or maybe he’d just thought she had. Maybe he’d been so blinded with his own joy that he missed something big, some warning sign that Cas was dissatisfied or unhappy. But as Dean racked his memories, he could find nothing.

Another day passed, then a week. There’s been no contact from Cas, no clues as to why she’d disappeared. 

The morning of day nine, a note was slid under his front door. The handwriting was unfamiliar, the ink a bright purple, and all that was written was an address. Dean didn’t hesitate to get in the car, and after an hour and a half he found himself at a homeless shelter four cities over.

Dean’s heart was pounding loudly in his chest as he walked in. Was Cas here? Or was he just getting his hopes up?

A blonde-haired young woman was tending the front desk. She straightened as Dean approached her, her eyes glued to the scrap of paper he held in his hand.

“Dean Winchester?” she asked as Dean stepped up to the desk.

Dean’s heart rate doubled. “That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The girl glanced around before plucking the note from Dean’s fingers, grabbing a pen and scribbling a symbol on the back in the same purple ink. “Do you know what this means?” She asked, holding the paper up so Dean could see.

Dean frowned. It was a symbol he hadn’t seen since he was a kid—since his dad had explained the secret half of the world to him after his mother had died. The supernatural half, bloody and dark and something that Dean had done his best to pretend didn’t exist his entire life. This particular symbol was one that had to do with magic—curses, specifically.

“I know, but I don’t understand,” Dean stammered out.

The girl smiled in sympathy. She tilted her head towards the double doors that were marked as leading to the cafeteria. “There’s someone in there who’s very important to you, I believe.”

_Cas._

“That someone had been cursed for a very long time,” the girl continued softly. “Not too long ago that curse finally broke.”

Dean blinked at her in surprise. Cas had been _cursed_? Worry—even more than before—flooded through Dean. Was Cas okay? He made to go into the cafeteria, but the girl grabbed his arm, turning him so she could look him in the eye.

“It’s purely a physical change, not a mental one,” she said, calmly and clearly. There was obviously a second meaning, but Dean wasn’t sure what it was. As soon as she released his arm he was walking through the doors, already scanning the crowd.

After a few moments, Dean’s gaze landed on a familiar figure in the back of the room. They were angled away from Dean, huddled on a bench. As Dean started working his way towards them, they turned—and Dean froze. Because it was Cas—but it also wasn’t Cas, not the Cas he knew. Cas had _changed_. The long hair was gone, chopped short and sticking out in every direction and framing the angular face that was now distinctly _male_. Stubble shadowed his sharp jawline, which was much more masculinely angled then Dean remembered. He—Cas was definitely a he, now—was even wearing one of Dean’s t-shirts, which did nothing to hide the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Dean stepped forwards, almost disbelieving what he was seeing. But as he got closer, he could see more of Cas’ face—and see the tight press of his lips, the exhaustion filling the lines around his eyes, the determined set of his jaw. Seeing that expression—the weariness, the grim focus—tore daggers through Dean’s heart. Because he _knew_ that expression, he knew that face, and he could read it as easily as a book. Because it was _Cas_.

And Dean was somewhat surprised to find that he didn’t care that Cas had changed. After all, Cas was Cas, and Dean was still hopelessly, endlessly in love with him.

And seeing as Cas was still wearing his wedding ring, maybe Cas still loved him, too. 

Dean was halfway across the room when Cas looked up. His eyes went wide as different emotions warred across his face—surprise, relief, panic, fear—before he ducked his head, as if trying to blend into the wall. As if he didn’t want Dean to notice him. And that sent daggers into Dean’s heart, but he took a deep breath, remembering what the girl at the front desk had said: _It’s purely a physical change, not a mental one._ That and the fact that Cas was fiddling with his wedding ring, a simple silver band that was identical to Dean’s—Cas hadn’t wanted any jewels or embellishments—was enough to keep Dean moving forward, to keep his eyes fixed on the person he loved.

Cas jumped in surprise when Dean sat down next to him, still not raising his head. His hands tightened around each other, his knuckles going white. He was afraid.

For a moment Dean closed his eyes. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask, but he had no words to give them life. 

So he chose something that said all of them, in the language that they’d created together for half a decade.

Dean leaned closer to Cas, pretending that it didn’t hurt when he stiffened, and took a deep breath. A smile was already creeping onto his face when he asked, “What’s a bee’s favorite candy?”

Finally, Cas looked up. He looked surprised and confused, but most importantly there was _hope_ —only a little, but still hope that hadn’t been there minutes before. His brow furrowed as he thought, just as always. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said softly. His voice was deeper than before, male instead of female, but still with the same gravelly roughness that he’d always had. Still his.

Dean smirked. “Bumble gum.”

Cas laughed. It happened like he didn’t mean for it too—suddenly, like a burst bubble, before he muffled it with his hand, shaking his head just the slightest. In that moment it was the best sound Dean had heard in his entire life.

Dean reached out, gently taking Cas’ hand. Cas fell silent at the contact, glancing down at their entwined fingers before looking back up at Dean with shielded eyes.

“You didn’t have to run away,” Dean said softly. Every emotion he’d felt over the last several days was behind that sentence—fear, panic, sorrow, longing. They made each word have a thousand different meanings— _I missed you. I was worried about you._

_I love you._

That last one Dean said in the same way they always had, gently squeezing Cas’ hand three times. Then there was a long moment where Cas was just looking at him, as if it was the first time that Cas had ever seen Dean. 

Then Cas squeezed Dean’s hand back, one, two, three.

Dean let out a soft laugh—he couldn’t help it. It was a laugh of relief, of love. And then he was pulling Cas into his arms, holding him so tightly that not even the end of the universe could pull them apart. Cas gripped him just as tight, and then they were crying, silent tears full of too many emotions staining each other’s shoulders dark.

“I wish you had told me,” Dean murmured softly. The sentence wasn’t accusing, or even reprimanding, but wistful and full of love.

“How could I?” Cas replied. There were many ends to that question, and Dean heard all of them and understood.

And they went home. They lived just as they had before, though Dean now got to refer to Cas as his husband instead of his wife. They did have to find Cas new clothes, but he and Dean wore the other’s so much that it didn’t really matter in the end anyway. There were a few questioning looks from neighbors when they spent time outside, but Dean ignored them, as did Cas.

Dean had been married for five long, happy years. His husband was everything he could have wished for and more—kind, intelligent, dorky. He always knew how to get Dean to smile, even on his worst days, and he had a way of thinking that fascinated Dean without end. It was always a toss-up to guess what type of comment would come out of his mouth after he sat for a while, his brow furrowed as he thought—it could be anything from a deeply profound observation about the universe to asking Dean how much cereal they had left. He was beautiful, too—short, dark, messy hair that he never seemed to know what to do with, piercingly blue eyes that Dean could drown in. Almost once a week Dean would wake up to find him watching him as he sat crossed-legged in bed, his head tilted in the way that made Dean fall in love with him all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> ❤️


End file.
